


The Art of Crafting Stiff Peaks

by SOABA



Series: Just Write! Bingo [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Baking, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Canon Died a Horrible but Necessary Death, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Families of Choice, Fluff Bingo, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Khuzdul, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 11:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOABA/pseuds/SOABA
Summary: Bilbo understands why he and Thorin must Court in the Dwarven fashion, he really does, but surely that does not preclude him from throwing in a few Hobbit traditions as well.





	The Art of Crafting Stiff Peaks

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Just Write! Fluff Bingo 2019 over on Discord. Prompt: Baking. Get ready for some food porn everybody, lol. I have no clue if chocolate exists in Middle Earth in canon, but I quite enjoy killing canon so it hardly matters.

**__ **

**_The Art of Crafting Stiff Peaks_ **

Once upon a time, Bilbo had been the very respectable Baggins of Bag End, had been very well thought of by all, except, perhaps, the Sackville branch of the family, and he had never done anything unexpected. He had been the quintessential Hobbit in nearly every respect.

And then, of course, Gandalf Grayhame had thrust thirteen rowdy, stubborn, secretive, _wonderful_ Dwarrow into his life and everything had changed radically for Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. Amidst battling Trolls and Goblins and Orcs and riddling with a Valar-damned Dragon, Bilbo had concluded that he was much happier being himself than he been wearing the polite mask of a Gentlehobbit and that he would much rather surround himself with Mahal’s children than the people whom he had grown up with. So when the Battle had ended, with everyone alive and free of the madness the gold had evoked in them, and the Company had broached the topic of Bilbo staying in Erebor with them instead of returning to the kindly west, Bilbo had not hesitated to agree to the scheme. And when Thorin had taken him aside to explain what he had truly meant when he gifted Bilbo the Mithril shirt and then shyly presented Bilbo with a Courting Bead of red diamond, carved to look like a rose, Bilbo’s happiness had known no bounds.

Courting was, as most things in the Mountain were, a very serious and complex business amongst the Dwarrow. As a result, Bilbo and Thorin had been diligent about adhering to every custom of Durin’s Folk, whether any particular one was salient or trivial in nature. The King set the example for his people, after all, and every decision that he made was judged – especially his choice of Consort.

If Bilbo himself would not be the most traditional of spouses for the King Under the Mountain, then at least no one could complain that he and Thorin had shirked any of the rites and customs expected of them.

In addition to their meticulous consideration of the set courtship conventions, Bilbo wore Dwarven-made and styled clothing nearly all the time. The embroidered waistcoats he had worn in the Shire had been replaced with gem-studded jerkins, his cravats traded in for sashes and stoles woven through with golden and silver and platinum threading, and the floral patterns he was so used to had been changed out for sharp geometric ones. Training every morning with Thorin and sometimes joined by their nephews or Dwalin or Nori, Bilbo learned how to properly wield Sting, how to heft an axe without toppling over at the weight of it, how to throw a spear across a large room, how hit the center of a target with arrows and knives each and every time he aimed, and how basically anything could be used as a weapon in a pinch. Bilbo had even joined the Colorweaver’s Guild, earning himself a Mastery in short order and enchanting even the most conventional of Dwarrow with his paintings and drawings, and he served as a member of the Golden Council in the Court of Carven Stone as one of Thorin’s most trusted advisors.

No, Bilbo would not call himself a proper Hobbit any longer, and he could not deny that he had set aside many of the practices which he had grown up with easily enough, but there was one thing, one ritual that dated back before the Settling, that he could not let go of.

When building their apartment in the Royal Wing, Thorin had made sure to include, among other things, a well-appointed kitchen for Bilbo to make use of as he saw fit. And make use of it he did, particularly in the month leading up to their wedding day. He could exchange beads instead of bonding bracelets delightedly and he could handle a crown of Mithril and jewels rather than blossoms resting upon his head when they spoke their vows before all of Erebor, but there would be no stopping Bilbo from Baking for Thorin.

It had taken him weeks to craft the recipe and tweak it to perfection, combining three of Thorin’s favorite things into a single treat that was good enough for Bilbo’s lofty standards – Hobbits did not mess around when it came to food – and could be served to his betrothed the evening before their wedding. All that was left was for him to Bake the finalized version.

He separated the eggs first and foremost, because it was easiest do so when they were still cold, and then he started working on the filling, pouring pre-heated heavy cream over small but numerous chunks of chocolate – a luxury in Erebor, to be sure, but nothing that Bilbo was unable to get his hands on; having vast funds at his disposal was quite helpful in that regard. He whisked the cream and chocolate together until it was smooth and seamlessly combined and then he covered the bowl with a towel and set the silky ganache aside to cool.

With the egg whites having warmed to room temperature in their copper bowl, which was best for whipping them effectively, Bilbo began to whisk, gradually adding sugar as he did. First, soft peaks formed as Bilbo forced air into the egg whites, then came the firm peaks, and then finally the desired stiff peaks came into being. Taking care not to overbeat the eggs, Bilbo ensured that all the sugar was properly dissolved and was rewarded with a product that was fluffy and just a bit glossy. At that point, he gently folded several large dollops of raspberry jam and a hint of food coloring into the meringue, flavoring it and changing its color to a soft pink hue, and then began to painstakingly shape the mixture into two dozen roses.

Once they were baking, Bilbo began to handle the details of the rest of their dinner. Venison was seared with caramelized onions and hen-of-the-woods mushrooms and then garnished with dandelion leaves. Cheesy garlic butter potatoes and dark pumpernickel bread were prepared to accent the dish and Bilbo sent one of the servants to fetch a bottle of Dale Red, with notes of cherry and black currant, from the royal cellars to pair with the meal.

When Bilbo’s rosettes were dry and crisp all the way through, he removed them from the oven and let them cool just a bit before spreading the ganache evenly over half of them. The other dozen meringues were used to sandwich the chocolate spread and then Bilbo placed the confections into a special airtight container that kept all food within from spoiling.

Thorin entered their suite just as Bilbo was pouring the wine into a pair of platinum goblets, “Evening, _Ghivashel_. It smells amazing in here.”

“The trick is getting the whole lot to taste good too,” Bilbo said with a quirk of his lips, “Is everything squared away with the Northern Mines?”

“Aye, the blockage has been cleared and we found a shaft full of diamonds, to boot, so the panic earlier has already been forgotten,” Thorin replied, taking a seat at the table. “Rumors have spread that it is a sign that Mahal has blessed our wedding tomorrow.”

“But, aren’t diamonds fairly common?” Bilbo asked as he served the food for them both.

“Not blue and green ones,” Thorin remarked, “Which is what was found in the new tunnel. Several miles worth, as a point of fact.” Thorin took a bite of the venison and then moaned almost obscenely, “By my beard, Bilbo, this is incredible. You could get a Second Mastery with the Chef’s Guild in _days_.”

Bilbo flushed in pleasure, “I’m glad you like it, darling. Do save room for dessert though.”

The meal was consumed with no small degree of relish on Thorin’s part and then Bilbo went to go fetch the rosettes from his kitchen, transferring them onto a serving tray. He brought the dish to Thorin and set it down before him, smiling at the look of delighted surprise on Thorin’s face.

“They’re roses,” Thorin marveled, “I had no idea that could be done. And is that chocolate?”

“Each is a raspberry meringue sandwich with a chocolate ganache middle,” Bilbo told him, “A combination of your favorite things, _Khaeluh._ I Baked them for you.”

“You invented these?” Thorin questioned with a smile.

“Yes, I… how did you guess that?”

“I’m not as ignorant of the ways of Hobbits as everyone seems to believe,” Thorin stated and then admitted, “I wrote a letter to your Thain, asking about Hobbit courting and marriage customs. Baking was discussed at length – it is something that all Hobbits do, inventing a new recipe just for their spouse-to-be, to show how well they know their tastes and demonstrate that they are willing to make every effort for them. He wrote that it was a nearly sacred art.”

“It’s a very old practice,” Bilbo agreed, sliding into Thorin’s lap when the Dwarf indicated that he wished for him to. “Dating back to almost the Beginning.”

“I can’t cook.” Thorin frowned.

“I know that, dearest,” Bilbo laughed lightly, “And I don’t hold it against you. I’m a right nightmare in a smithy, after all. Thank the Green Lady that family is allowed to help make the wedding beads, because otherwise your beads would be carved from wood – metal working is not my forte, by any means – and the Silver Council would be throwing a fit tomorrow.”

“Bonding bracelets are made of wood,” Thorin commented in a blithe tone.

“They are,” Bilbo confirmed, a bit suspicious.

Thorin hummed and then, “Can I taste one of your meringues?”

Bilbo picked one up and held it to Thorin’s mouth, gratified when he took a bite and then sunk back into his chair at the pleasure of it.

“Forget days,” Thorin announced with pride, “You could earn a Second Mastery in mere hours with this, _Ghivashel_.”

“They’re for you and me alone,” Bilbo said, “That’s how the tradition goes. And for our children, of course, once they’ve sprouted. Eventually, I’ll pass the recipe on to them and they will make it for their families.”

“A bright and beautiful future,” Thorin murmured, kissing him tenderly.

**THE END**

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**Translations (Khuzdûl)**

  * **Ghivashel [Beloved]**
  * **Khaeluh [** **My Great Wolf **]****




End file.
